


I Get Warm (Just Thinking of You)

by stellarscope



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Accidental Phone Call, Blowjobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, NoHo Hank sees an opportunity and he goes for it, PTSD, Porn With Plot, Pre-Established Relationship, This is a lot of Tags, both have feelings but haven’t talked about it, butt dialling, caught masturbating, head - Freeform, they’re closer than in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarscope/pseuds/stellarscope
Summary: Following Barry’s failed hit on Esther, he receives a strange call from Hank.Title is from Sweet Talk by Saint Motel.
Relationships: Barry Berkman & NoHo Hank, Barry Berkman/NoHo Hank, Barry Block & NoHo Hank, Barry Block/NoHo Hank
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh this is just me practicing writing for these guys in some porn, basically. Barest possible amount of plot. This is just the first chapter as it’s getting late on my end, but I will continue as motivation arises! The head’ll start in Chapter 2, I just needed to get Barry to Hank’s place this chapter.  
> Come talk to me at grapesodas.tumblr.com!

Barry had just finished pacing the length of his bedroom and was noncommittally refreshing his Facebook feed when his phone began to buzz. 

He eyed the screen as it vibrated in his hand with growing anxiety as the contact name appeared: NoHo Hank.

He furrowed his brow, swallowed once and inhaled sharply before he answered without introduction. 

Hank typically spoke more than enough for both of them so it was common place for Barry to just let him get on with whatever he had to spew that would prove too much a bother to type out in a text, but today his silence was much heavier. It was an anxious hesitation, he knew he’d fucked up tonight. A good twenty of Esther’s men had seen him plain as day, gun in hand, deer in the headlights entering the wrong room of their Monastery. Then of course, as they chased him out, among them was Esther herself. 

The woman Hank sent him to kill.

Barry didn’t release the breath he held in the silence from the other line. Hank’s usual greeting didn’t come. Not even the heavy huffing of anger. 

What Barry did hear after a small period of time was fabric. The rustling of some- some cloth? Then a gasp. 

Was Hank in trouble? Had Esther already linked the failed hit back to him, God, Barry knew he should’ve kept better tabs on his stupid Chechen bullet, theatrics are one thing but being fucking careless-

His mind went blank as he heard his name. It was faint, barely audible over the growing sound of his blood pounding in his ears but he knew he’d heard it. Then, directly following, in a terribly small and defeated voice- “Please.” 

Barry had packed a small stash of ammo in a near blind panic before hightailing it to his car, cellphone pressed between his ear and right shoulder as he drove at a hazardous speed to where he knew Hank was staying. Not the stash house, or the cargo hold out back- no, he said he would be at a motel about four blocks south of the Monastery so he would be able to “Witness immediate results of aftermath!” following Barry’s assignment. 

All the phone had to offer for further intel was shaky breathing. He sounded fucked up and muffled. 

“Fuck!” He punctuated by slamming his palms onto his steering wheel. He *knew* that was a stupid idea, he *told* him it was a stupid idea! He could just picture Hank in some hideous lounge robe pouring himself champagne in celebration standing on the balcony. That fucking idiot probably got shot straight through the chest and felt so high and mighty as to call Barry for help one last time, even though this could very well take him down too. What was he supposed to do, just open fire on twenty mobsters in a fucking motel? More? 

He managed to come to a calm stop in the parking lot despite the undeniably tight grip he held on his steering wheel, knuckles white, nostrils flared. 

He loaded his pistol which was equipped with a sound suppressor and snagged his ski mask off the passenger seat. 

Barry knew the room number. It was on the third floor, Hank had told him, and on the right side of the hallway. Approaching the entrance, he held his gun out with his right hand and the phone to his ear with his left. Nothing. It was quiet, and Barry stood there prepped and torn. What should he do? What the fuck was the move here? 

Just as he was moving his ear from  
the phone speaker to press against the hotel door, he heard a thud from the other end of the line that didn’t reflect from inside; at least not out here in the hallway. 

He was wasting time. If he hadn’t heard a thud from out here then Hank might not even *be* in the damn motel. He could be anywhere. Maybe he should’ve checked the fucking stash house! Or the Monastery again- fuck it. He was already here. He needed to be sure the place was empty, or at least try to find some clues. 

He hung up the phone and inhaled, then tried the door. 

It was unlocked, but the deadbolt was latched. He released the breath he held and reached through the opening, fiddling with the orientation of the chain, and finally slid it free. Then he slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind himself, mask down and gun arm outstretched. 

He could hear his heartbeat pounding as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of Hank’s current abode. Nothing moved in the entryway. He could, however, see light: artificial and blue toned spilling out faintly from underneath a closed door. It must be the bedroom. 

Barry approached warily, eyes wild but focused as he continued to watch his perimeter for any movement. Nothing but curtains gently waving above a vent. 

The blue light was flickering, maybe a muted TV? Barry was becoming aware of a faint repetitive sound from the other side of the door, though it didn’t sound like any late night Soap. 

It sounded like.. breathing. Labored though, and wet- like someone struggling around a mouth full of blood. There was no sound of footsteps, nothing else to account for, so with an awful image of Hank bleeding to death sadly on his rented bed Barry threw the door open, gun arm leading. 

The first thing he noticed would have to be the shriek Hank released upon Barry’s surprising arrival. Second would score in at the fact that Hank was completely fucking nude. 

He was completely naked, laying on his back with his legs spread and a laptop within his left arm’s reach. The laptop displayed a video of two men tangled in each other, kissing with open and wanting mouthes while their hands explored oddly oiled up exposed skin. Hank was occupied by some brand of earbud that was tethering him to the device via headphone jack and his right hand firmly gripping his erect cock. 

“Barry?!” He hollered, frozen in place like a horny teenager aware of their lack of time to mask masturbation. Barry’s eyebrows were pushing into his forehead as he struggled to process the situation.

He dropped his gun to the carpeted floor and in unison with it’s landing Hank fired into action, slamming the laptop closed and pulling the covers over his naked body, looking more than scandalized as he fumbled with the bedside lamp. 

“What are you doing here?! Why- What are you- How did you get in!” Hank struggled with the octave of his voice, typically pale face flushed bright pink. 

Barry couldn’t look away from him. “I- I got- I got your call, what the *fuck*, man?” Seeing as there was no need for masks he removed his disguise just in time to squeeze his eyes shut as Hank brought light into the room. 

After Barry cleared the spots out of his vision, he scanned the rest of the room, desperate for some context. 

“Call? What call? I haven’t call you, Barry, not since job details early today- What do you-“ 

The he saw it. Hank’s phone, incredulously dropped on the floor by his bed. “Did you butt dial me while you were *jacking off*, Hank?” Barry looked back to the bald man, brow now furrowed in disbelief. “You- you said my name!” 

Hank’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “I- Barry, I am- I- ..did. I did, huh?” 

For what felt like an eternity the two of them locked eyes. As Barry felt the pumping of blood behind his temples as the adrenaline began it’s final route through his body, he felt blood pushing somewhere else as well. Somewhere lower. 

His face grew hot. 

“You- you weren’t calling me.” He says finally, dumbly.

Hank tries a testing, weak spirited grin. “No, Barry.” Is all he says, before their staring contest ceases and Hank’s gaze lowers on Barry’s form. 

Immediately Barry became aware of how little protection the sweatpants he selected for this rescue mission truly offered as he felt Hank’s line of sight attempt to burn through the cloth. 

“Barry..” Hank began, eyes locked on his crotch. Barry swallowed hard and offered no reply, eyes locked on the other man’s face, silently praying he would meet his gaze once more.

“Hank, I’m sorry I barged in- I’m gonna go now, uh-“ Any feasible train of thought left Barry’s immediate processing ability as he saw Hank rise up from the bed. It was slow, non abrupt, purposeful. Hank was staring at his face again, and Barry couldn’t decide which focal point was worse.

“Barry, you come all this way to barge in and check on me? Then spin on toe and leave?” His feet softly planted themselves on the carpet as he straightened out, skin flushed pink and spotted with tattoos. Barry tried to ignore how hard he was. 

“H-heel,” He stated shakily. “You spin on your heel.” 

“Ah.” Hank replied, obviously not caring at all. He took a few steps closer, then a few more, until he was standing in front of him. Barry didn’t dare to breathe. 

He held Hank’s gaze until he felt a curious, light pressure against his crotch. “Let me make it up to you, eh?” The other man spoke. Barry could do nothing but watch the way the other man’s lip quirked and then twitched like he was hungry. Distantly he was aware of himself nodding, just slightly. 

Hank’s touch became a bit more pointed, then it was a flat handed feel up as he measured out Barry’s length. But all too soon the touch was gone entirely, pulling a strange strangled whine from Barry’s throat that only had time to manifest as Hank dropped to his knees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Hank fumble through the start of their first intimate occasion.

Barry’s mouth was dry as cotton when he felt cool fingers wrap around the waistband of his sweatpants and tug down, further and further until Hank had the gray fabric loosely collected around the bigger man’s ankles. Barry shivered as the draft from this room’s vent swept across his exposed thighs, though not as hard as he shook when Hank brought his mouth to the head of Barry’s still clothed dick. 

“Oh-“ He managed, blindsided by the dampening of his underwear. The thin veil was excruciating; it wasn’t enough of a barrier to mask the sensations of the other man’s movements but it was annoying enough to stop Barry from completely getting swept up in the narrative of the fact that Hank had his mouth on his dick.

“Hank-“ He gasped out, sounding almost more like a warning. The bald man looked up from his kneeling position, brows raised in silent inquiry as he made eye contact with Barry until the taller one faltered- unable to hold the connection while the other man was in such an incredulous position. 

Then Hank started laving his tongue across Barry’s length. He paused frequently to allow his spit to soak through Barry’s boxers, wet enough to cling to his skin before he would repeat the motion slightly to either side of his current position. 

“Hank,” Barry threatened, more forceful than anything he’d been able to verbalize since entering the motel.  
This got the other man to pause, directing his full attention upwards. 

“What?” He sounded almost annoyed.   
“Take them off, man- it’s- it’s not enough.” Barry’s expression didn’t reflect the effectiveness of the statement. His voice had carried evenly enough, reasonably steady for the circumstance he’d say, but his jaw was somewhat slack at the revelation and his eyes were wide as he scanned the expanse of exposed skin at his feet. 

Hank seemed rather impressed. Well.. maybe that was too casual a word. He seemed.. Well- It was obvious that what Barry said shot straight to his gut. If he got excited by something as fumbly as that then this might not actually be so difficult for Barry at all.

Being ordered around, huh? Maybe being a polite, well behaved right hand man was more befitting of the Chechen than Barry had previously considered. 

“Uh, pull- pull them off, *now* Hank.” He lowered his brow a bit in at attempt towards something more stern which of course manifested as appearing constipated. 

Regardless, without a word, Hank nodded once and familiarly tugged down the garment. Barry hissed at the uncomfortable sensation of wet cloth being quickly pulled off of him only regaining himself just in time to promptly lose his composure as Hank ran his tongue across Barry’s length in a long strip. 

Barry twitched, cock bobbing in the air. He was only informed of the fact he’d moaned by the reassurance that Hank couldn’t have made such a clear sentiment with his lips wrapped around and sucking Barry’s head. 

The pleasure mixed with oversensitivity quickly made Barry realize he didn’t care about loosing a few moans. Hank seemed to want Barry to be more than fine with the concept as he hummed against the sensitive skin and then took him properly into his mouth.

Barry didn’t move at first, and initially neither did Hank. He sat there naked with the weight of Barry on his tongue, filling his mouth, and looked up expectantly. Barry felt like he was swimming from concept to concept in a vast abstracted consciousness before he connected the dots on what Hank was asking for.

Barry nodded once, feeling far away, and brought his right hand to the left side of Hank’s face. Hank responded by cheeking Barry’s tip in such a way that he could feel the presence of his own cock against his hand- separated only by the soft faced man he was caressing. Then, Barry pushed further into his mouth; until the smaller man gagged as he hit his throat and required a brief pop-off to collect himself. 

Hanks lips were slick with spit and he was more than eager to resume their activities when Barry pulled him back onto his dick. Hank groaned, low and deep in his throat and it sent vibrations along the growing need Barry was stuffing him with. Barry moaned at the added attention and pulled out before resolutely slamming back into Hank, chasing more friction. 

Hank coughed before he forced himself to fully take Barry, nose flush with his lower stomach as he flared his nostrils frantically in an attempt to ground himself through breathing. He held the position for a few second before he shoved off with a wheeze.

The look the two of them shared as tears pricked the corners of Hank’s eyes was possibly more intense than anything else Barry had intimately experienced. His cock twitched. 

“Hank, get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man it’s the head chapter. I like to think that Hank likes to be bossed around in bed, and it takes Barry a second to ease into the dynamic but then he really rolls with it. :’)
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, it really keeps me motivated!
> 
> Come find me at grapesodas.tumblr.com!


End file.
